


An Invitation to the Dance

by NairobiWonders



Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: Costume Ball, F/M, Joanlock - Freeform, masks and disguises
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2019-01-26 13:57:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12558892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NairobiWonders/pseuds/NairobiWonders
Summary: Costume ball and masks ... Sometimes you can be more truly yourself when you are in disguise.Absolute romantic fluff, almost straying into heaving bosom territory.





	An Invitation to the Dance

Emily whirled past her. Perhaps it was a good thing Sherlock refused her invitation. A costume ball would have been too much for him and Emily was enjoying herself immensely. Still, she wished he was here with her to analyze and ridicule the upper crust of society, masked and disguised, yet as bare as the emperor in his new clothes. 

Joan adjusted her own mask, dusky pink and encrusted with tiny faux pearls, it covered her eyes and a bit of her nose; not much of a disguise but it was pretty and matched her dress. She and Emily had chosen Regency gowns, straight out of a Jane Austen novel. Well, really, she let Emily do the choosing; she would have preferred something more structured and with less décolletage - things threatened to pop out too easily if she exerted herself. 

She surveyed the ballroom, decorated in autumnal tones and accented with golden drapery and swags, a soft warm light filled the space with the feel of candlelight at dusk. It was quite beautiful and would have been wasted on Sherlock. Emily danced by again and waved at her. Joan smiled. She was pleased Emily had a night out away from the kids and that the children's charity the ball was supporting had had a splendid turn out. 

A bump at her shoulder snapped her out of her reverie. 

A pirate, dreadlocked, bearded and black masked, excused himself as he caught her by the arm, "Sorry, poppet, didn't see you there." And with that he joined the crowd heading toward the punch bowl.

Joan watched him swagger away. The captain stood out from the crowd; perhaps it was his commitment to the character, the quality and detail of his costuming or something else altogether. She found herself following him, surreptitiously, of course. 

A group of aged flappers, and their dapper dates, crossed in front of her and she lost sight of him for a second and then lost him altogether as two top hatted gentleman came to a full stop in front of her. Joan gave up the chase. She obviously needed to hone her trailing skills, she thought, as she joined the line for punch. A gentle nudge at her elbow and she turned to face her lost target. The pirate stood beside her, offering her a glass of red punch. "To make amends for the shove, miss." The accent was American this time. The pirate smiled and Joan stood dumbfounded. 

He had to know she'd see right through the disguise, didn't he? He could change his voice, accent, gait, height (the boots added an inch at least), and mannerisms, but his eyes were all she needed to recognize him. Joan took the punch and continued to stare, suddenly doubting herself and looking for additional confirmation that Sherlock stood before her in pirate guise. 

The man stood still under her scrutiny, finally bowing to her and with a tip of his tri-cornered hat, making his way back towards the dance floor. Joan watched as he approached an overdressed and, far too young for him, Queen Elizabeth and asked her to dance. They swished into the group of dancers with a laugh. Was it him or was she just seeing what she wished to see? Sherlock would never voluntarily attend a dance. He'd given her literally a hundred reasons when he declined her offer. She had been so disappointed. Joan understood, this kind of frivolity would seem a waste of valuable time to him, an overload to his senses .... but those eyes ... those eyes were definitely his ...

"Joan," Emily stood breathlessly beside her. "May I have a sip? I think I'm too old for all this dancing."

Joan gave her the cup. "Nonsense. You are quickly becoming the belle of the ball," she teased. 

Emily beamed, "Stop it! I am having such a good time though. I love my family but this is such a nice break from it all."

"It's good to escape the humdrum every so often, to do the unexpected, " Joan smiled wide at her friend with a twinkle in her eyes. "We'll have to do this more often."

"Excuse me, lass." The Scottish accent caught Joan off guard and she looked up to face those eyes again. "Would ye consider a wee turn about the floor with me, eh?" Why did he switch accents, did he mean for her to recognize him? Or did she just want him so much to be here with her that she was stretching the physical data to match her hypothesis. 

Again, she stared dumbfounded until a nudge from Emily moved her forward. "Go on, Joan. You haven't danced nearly enough ... go."

The pirate offered her his black-gloved hand and she timidly placed her hand in his. 

She felt it then, the slight tremble, but wasn't sure if it was him or her. Behind his mask, she saw that momentary flicker of uncertainty quickly covered with a steely gaze. A look she'd seen so many times from him. Her partner lay beneath the dreadlocks and mask. 

He led her to the dance floor and staring tauntingly at her, firmly place his hand at her waist. She followed suit and lay her free hand on his shoulder. If he did not crack, neither would she. They stood there for a second challenging each other, eyes locked in playful battle till the music started and they began to move. 

Dancing together proved exhilarating. Neither spoke but they drew closer and closer as the music swept round them and at its end they stood momentarily bereft until he scooped her hand into his, "Come with me." The accent this time was his.

He parted the golden drapery to reveal a tiny alcove, with leaded windows and white walls. Her eyes glinted with happiness as she stepped in and placed her back against the wall. The cold air that seeped in from the old windows felt good against her overheated skin. For whatever reason, he'd overcome the hundred excuses and came to the dance. He let the drapery drop, leaving only their lower legs visible to others. 

"Thank you ... for allowing me to dance with you." The words were whispered and sincere. He took her hand and brought it to his lips. An exhalation of pleasure escaped her at the sensation. He looked up into her eyes and both at that same moment dropped the pretense. She opened her hand to reach for him and he bent his head into her open palm, rapturously laying kisses at its center and moving to her wrist. His face moved incrementally closer to her bosom. She felt his warm breath against her before his lips reverently touched her bare skin. Joan's hand instinctively moved to his nape and brought him closer, stroking his hair in encouragement as he nuzzled and with open mouth kisses caressed her breast.

"Joan?" The curtain was parted and Emily apologetically appeared.

Joan gasped and Sherlock stood up protectively in front of her.

"I'm sorry ..." She looked as flustered as they did. "I just got a call. My youngest is running a fever ... a high fever and asking for me. I ... I'm taking a cab home."

"I'm sorry." Joan was genuine in her concern. "Do you want me to come with you?" She felt Sherlock's hand at her waist increase its grip ever so slightly. 

"Would you mind? You might know what to do and ..."

"No problem. Go get our coats and I'll be right there."

Sherlock sighed resignedly and released Joan's waist. Emily ran off and Joan turned to him. She pulled off her mask and grabbed at his bearded face, kissing him with such need and desire that he was left trying to catch his breath when she pulled away. "I'm not sure what you're game plan was tonight but ... don't take off the costume. I'll be home before midnight at the latest."

His eyes crinkled in a smile and he kissed the tip of her nose, "Go ... and hurry, this wig is quite itchy."


End file.
